"Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
...the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern'd, as the sea is, by the moon" [Henry IV, I.ii.31-33]
HISTORY NEVER REPEATS ITSELF, BUT IT OFTEN RHYMES
"There is a Providence that protects idiots, drunkards, children and the United States of America." Otto von Bismarck

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Saturday, January 12, 2013

Obama's Chicago: Six Teens Killed Since Friday

The Chicago Tribune demonstrates the downright silliness of the Preposterous Freak we have in the Oval Office and his sidekick, Joe the Schmoe Biden.

Two gunmen shot a 14-year-old boy several times Friday night as he stood on his porch, leaving him to die in the front hallway of his Humboldt Park home, authorities said.
The shooting came just hours after a 15-year-old boy was fatally shot in a separate attack in the Little Village neighborhood. Including both homicides, at least six teens were shot since Friday afternoon, according to police.

The Fucked-Up Freak in the White House wants to take guns from law-abiding citizens and leave the criminals to the efficient official forces of Law and Order, the Chicago Constabulary.
I lived in Chicago for a decade [1991-2000] and the gang wars were nowhere near the intensity they are today. Just another failure to rack up against the GWB and especially the Barry [Choom Sucker] Soetero REGIME.

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About Me

"''I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young And weep because I know all things now: I have been a hazel-tree, and they hung The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
Among my leaves in times out of mind....' Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments...the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern'd, as the sea is, by the moon."
Twenty-and-eight the phases of the moon, The full and the moon’s dark and all the crescents, Twenty-and-eight, and yet but six-and-twenty The cradles that a man must needs be rocked in: For there’s no human life at the full or the dark. From the first crescent to the half, the dream But summons to adventure and the man Is always happy like a bird or a beast; But while the moon is rounding towards the full He follows whatever whim’s most difficult...An aged man is but a paltry thing,A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress....Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.